


Hearts of a Feather Heal Together

by piggiellamamama



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses
Genre: Adam/Belle - Freeform, Beast/Belle - Freeform, Beauty and the Beast, Belle reads to Beast, Belle/Adam - Freeform, Belle/Beast - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:50:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggiellamamama/pseuds/piggiellamamama
Summary: The next day, following the wolf attack, Belle visits the Beast in the West Wing to lift his spirits and aid his recovery.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot scene of Belle/Beast following the wolf attack. Any subsequent chapters will be part of a series of one-shots, not to be mistaken for a fanfiction-style re-write or book.  
> I do not, nor will I ever, claim the characters as my own.  
> DISCLAIMER: Although I chose not to put warnings, the following MAY appear in later chapters or postings under this "series":   
> *Adult themes  
> *Sexual Acts  
> *Graphic Material of an Undisclosed Nature  
> Please read the notes for each individual addition, in case the material is not suitable for viewers like you.   
> Thanks!

It was the day after the Beast had rescued Belle from the pack of snarling wolves. As she reflected on the terrifying event, her footsteps echoed through the halls leading up to the west wing. If only he hadn't lost his temper, she thought. As Belle approached the door leading into Beast’s chamber, another notion came to mind. If only I had listened. 

 

Belle saw clearly now that, in spite of their arguing the night prior, there were equal feelings of guilt on both sides. However, she was also aware that they were both too stubborn to admit it aloud. Tightly pursing her lips, Belle raised her fist to the door and knocked twice. There was the sound of mattress springs creaking, followed by a faint grumbling. “Come in,” Beast called. 

 

Within his chambers, the room was very dim and the air felt dry and stagnant. Dust was settled on nearly every surface, in spite of the castle’s many servants at his disposal. Belle redirected her gaze toward the large four poster bed, and found Beast sitting up to face her. A feeling of uncertainty twisted in her stomach, as she wondered if her presence was unwelcome after the attack in the woods. 

 

Brown eyes cast downwards, Belle clutched the book she brought with her against her chest. Reading always made her feel better, and she hoped that perhaps it would do the same for her rescuer. Somehow, any shred of confidence that Belle felt before had dissipated, now that she was before the Beast. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t summon the words to speak. 

 

Clumsily, Beast broke the silence. “Oh, it’s you.” His large head cocked to the side, and he squinted, attempting to decipher the title of the book that Belle cradled in her arms. “Is that the first edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets?” Beast’s voice was heavy with sleep, and he winced while adjusting his weight upon the mattress; which, quite loudly, protested to the movements. With large paws, he tugged the comforter up to his furry chest and leaned against a stack of tattered pillows. 

Belle gave a small smile, “Yes, I haven’t read many of them, and I thought you’d recover sooner with some company.” Taking a seat next to the king sized bed, she placed the book in her lap and opened to the first sonnet written by the famous playwright. After clearing her throat, Belle’s soothing, rhythmic voice began to fill the Beast’s chamber. 

“From fairest creatures we desire increase,   
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,   
But as the riper should by time decease,   
His tender heir might bear his memory:   
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,   
Feed’st thy light’st flame with self-substantial fuel,   
Making a famine where abundance lies,   
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.   
Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament   
And only herald to the gaudy spring,   
Within thine own bud buriest thy content   
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.   
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,   
To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.” 

 

Finished, she looked to the Beast, who had been watching her with a subtle smile. “Do you like this poem?” Belle asked. He shrugged and fiddled with his paws, “While I don’t agree with his message, I suppose it’s not dreadful.” With an eyebrow raised, Belle replied, “Not dreadful? That’s what you have to say about Shakespeare?” She slammed the book shut, letting her annoyance get the better of her. 

 

“Well, when you look at the bigger picture,” Beast began. She shot him a daring look, furiously crossing her arms, “What, then?” He sighed, wishing that he had a romantic bone in his body that could have avoided this mess. Beast spoke his next words slowly, and carefully, “I simply don’t think that one’s beauty should be the reason for bearing children.” Belle sat, quietly thinking, and reopened the book. Her eyes trailed over Shakespeare’s words, and deciphered each one individually. 

 

“Yes, Shakespeare is instructing the beautiful person-- be them woman or otherwise-- to be unselfish by producing an heir; thus, sharing their beauty with future generations.” Belle started, ready to make her argument. “However, it is up to the reader to interpret whether that is exclusively talking about their physical appeal or their innermost self.” Beast rolled his eyes, “You cannot stake an argument on the reader’s understanding of the words.” Belle leaned an elbow on the side of the bed, “And why not?” 

 

Beast took the book and, using his claw, flipped to a different page, where he chose a line seemingly at random. “Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly light,” Beast said, pointing at the page. “To, say, a beginner in the ways of Shakespeare, this could be taken literally.” Belle shrugged, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “So, you’re saying that their view of that phrase cannot be taken into serious consideration.” She laughed, and nodded her head. “I suppose that’s true.” 

 

“So,” the Beast paused, “Is my assessment forgiven?” Belle put a finger to her chin, and hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps I can allow you, your delusions.” She smiled again, and reached her hand out for the book. Beast shook his head, “Oh, no, now it’s my turn.” 

 

 

All afternoon, they took turns reading passages from the book. When they finished, Belle had run to the library so that the pair could start reading as different characters in the play MacBeth. Never before had the west wing sounded so cheerful, and the castle residents felt hope swell within their hearts. 

 

Later that evening, Mrs. Potts went to the Master’s chamber to deliver their meals. She didn’t want to risk ruining their good mood by separating them for dinner, after all. The Beast would still be confined to his bed for a few more days until his wounds could heal. As she sat upon the serving cart, the teapot gently called into the chamber, “It’s Mrs. Potts, Dearies!” Much to her surprise, the Beast responded in a hushed tone, “Come in.” At first, she wondered if the Master had lost his voice. However, upon entering, she could see that was not the case. 

 

Belle had joined Beast on top of the bed at one point during their reenactment. Now, she was resting above the covers, her lips twitching into a smile every so often. Beast was cautious of moving, and turned very slowly away from her so he could face Mrs. Potts. “Thank you,” he mouthed. In awe, Mrs. Potts took in the sight once more; of the brunette, nestled cozily against the Master’s side. “Would you like me to escort her to her room, Master?” Mrs. Potts quietly asked. 

 

“No,” he responded, hastily. “No, let her sleep.” The Beast gazed at Belle, his blue eyes softer than they had been not too long ago. “All right, Dearie,” Mrs. Potts said. “Let me know if you need anything.” Beast nodded, “Thank you.” Without a word, the teapot nodded and let herself out. 

In the hall, Mrs. Potts replayed the scene in her mind. “We find love in the most unexpected places…” With a secret smile she made her way back downstairs, keeping her discovery to herself.


	2. A Charming, Enchanted Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Beast celebrate Christmas with their dear friends, but something heavy is weighing on Belle's heart. Can they pull off a special holiday party for everyone, after all? 
> 
> A longer one-shot fanfic

It was the night of Christmas Eve and the castle was still, aside from the bustling of the servants in the kitchen. Together, Belle and Beast sat by the hearth of the fire exchanging pleasantries over a book of Christmas legends. Chip joined them, after he had cleared most of the table from the evening’s meal. The teacup excitedly listened to stories about Saint Nicholas and the joy he would bring on that night. 

Beast pretended to be a bearded jolly man, saying, “Ho, ho, ho!” Chip laughed and sat upon the Master’s knee, whispering what he’d like as a gift. Belle smiled, and while her heart felt full at the sight of them, it was also weighed down by the circumstances that were surrounding this moment of happiness. An innocent boy, turned into a teacup, with no guarantee of ever returning to his human life. Whatever he wanted for Christmas, she thought that he deserved it. 

 

Unable to withhold her emotions, she quickly stood and retreated from the grand foyer. Beast watched her go, confusion clear on his face. Chip turned at the sound of her footsteps, “Where’s Belle going?” Tension was thick in the room, as Beast gently returned Chip to his seat on the carpet. “I’ll go talk to her,” he said. “You’d better stay here-- see if your mother needs any help, okay?” Without waiting for a reply, Beast casually went in the direction in which he saw the young girl run off.

 

Just around the corner, in the middle of the hallway and leaning against a door, Belle was cradling her face in anguish. Beast’s heart broke at the sight, and with a heavy sigh, slowly approached her. “Belle?” He asked, his voice soft as silk. She turned her head, and quickly wiped her eyes. “I-I’m,” Belle started to speak, but a series of sobs unleashed themselves from her heaving chest.

 

Startled by the sight, Beast took a step backward. He looked behind him, to see if there were someone else-- anyone-- to offer the proper comfort Belle needed. Not a second had passed before Belle took hold onto his shirt. With knuckles white as snow, and a face flushed from crying, she clung to him in that corridor. Beast cleared his throat, and wrapped one paw around her back. 

 

Watching her, weeping for those less fortunate than herself, Beast wanted nothing more than to be human once more. He ached to be able to hug and caress this young woman, without the risk of injuring her. With some time, Belle brought herself back from her emotional distress. Beast; however, felt he may crumble as he looked down into her deep brown eyes-- their lids, freshly swollen from the tears that had left trails trickling down her rosy cheeks. Belle’s chestnut brown locks were in disarray, as the ribbon that had been tied in the back was now drooping towards her shoulders.

 

“More than anything,” he spoke in a gruff whisper. “I wish I could help my friends, especially Chip.” He swallowed back a lump in his throat as he continued. “But,” Beast paused. The Enchantress had made it impossible for anyone to explain the nature of their curse, and he could not go on. Belle seemed to understand his emotions, and nodded in quiet agreement. They stood in the hallway, leaning into one another, as they felt their reality sink in. 

 

After several long minutes, Belle pulled away from their embrace. “Can we plan a party for everyone, for tomorrow?” Beast smiled, as though a small weight was being removed from his shoulders. “Indeed, I think we can-- and we must!” He was excited to be able to give back to the people who have been there for him all his life, even before the curse. Belle was always giving him opportunities to learn how to support his friends, and to be kinder to all. In this particular moment, when Beast felt at his lowest, he could not have been more thankful for her. 

 

\------

 

At the break of dawn, birds were chirping outside of the ice-encrusted windows. Snow had fallen, and it looked as though all the world was wrapped in a blanket of glistening white. Beast stretched and hurried to get his robe on, so he might begin the festivities planned for the day. As he walked down the staircase leading to the main floor, laughter could be heard from the direction of the dining room. Beast scratched his head, as he recalled Belle telling him that they would begin their work after breakfast. Perhaps we’ll be enjoying our breakfast as a group, he wondered. 

 

Within the kitchen, everyone was busying themselves. Belle stood atop a small ladder, draping branches of fresh pine trees over the cabinetry and doorways. “A little to the left, mon cheri,” Lumiere kindly instructed from below. The sweet aroma of cinnamon rolls, matched with a savory casserole wafted through the air as Beast took in the setting. Watching his friends decorate together was refreshing and brought with it a warmth that reminded him of the days of his youth, when his mother was still alive.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Beast said, interrupting their work. Belle turned on the ladder, and nearly lost her footing. She corrected it gracefully, and smiled at him. “Oh, thank you! I hadn’t expected you’d be awake yet.” Why would she be counting on me being asleep? He thought. “Well, with everything we talked about yesterday I was excited to see everyone.” Beast admitted, trying not to give away the party details in front of the guests of honor. Belle hummed in agreement, finishing the placement of some fresh holly berries between the arrangements of pine branches. 

 

She jumped down triumphantly, “Finished!” Beast was overwhelmed with emotions, seeing the completed decorations that now adorned the palace, and watching the glee on everyone’s faces. Something was special about this Christmas, and it wasn’t just the scent of pine and pastries. No, it was deeper than nostalgia; a feeling that was similar to longing. What was it? The idea was cast from his mind, as Mrs. Potts gathered everyone at the dining room table. 

 

“Alright now, Dearies,” the teapot cheerfully announced. “Take your seats and we’ll begin serving up all the delicious food you can eat!” Chip hopped around the entrees, “Oh, Mama, look at the cinnamon rolls-- they’re bigger than me!” Mrs. Potts chuckled, “Yes, Dear, now let’s mind our manners, please.” Belle sat down in her usual seat, just beside the head of the table. Beast took his spot next to her, and upon seeing the full spread of food among his loved ones, felt an urgency well up in his chest. He cleared his throat, and proceeded to tap on his glass with a spoon. The tinkling sound was quickly replaced by that of the sharp noise of shattering glass. 

 

Everyone was silent, and looked to the Beast. At first, Mrs. Potts, Lumiere and Cogsworth glanced between one another, curious to see if their Master would display his usual rage at his own embarrassment. However, he simply coughed and gathered the shards of glass together in his napkin and put it aside. With a raise of his eyebrows, Beast spoke at last, “Anyway…” The sarcastic tone in his voice brought everyone into a fit of laughter, and even he joined in. 

 

Once the moment had ended, Cogsworth broke the silence. “Did you have something you wanted to say, Master?” He asked. Beast nodded, smiling ear to ear. “Friends, I am overjoyed to spend this Christmas celebrating, well, as a family.” Belle’s eyes shimmered with tears brimming at the surface, and he continued his speech. “I am grateful to you all, and I am nothing less than ashamed of how I’ve behaved towards each and every one of you over the course of my life.” Mrs. Potts began to speak in protest, but he gently raised one claw to signify that he was not yet finished. “I have been a fool, and a spoiled child grown into a spoiled man… I deserve this grisly visage, but I am sorry for the fate my actions have bestowed on you.” He bowed his head, “I wish I could set you all free, and live a lonely life as a monster.” 

 

Belle placed his hand atop his furry paw, and squeezed it, “It’s never too late to set things right,” she said. At the same time, she couldn’t help but cling to the words, ‘I wish I could set you all free.’ In the spirit of the holiday, though, Belle chose to focus on making sure the others could have the happiest Christmas they’d experienced, at least since they had last been human.

 

\------

 

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. There was a snowball fight, caroling led by Lumiere and Maestro, and the reading of A Christmas Carol. In fact, it was going so well, that by the time night fell, Belle had almost forgotten to give everyone their gifts. “Oh, wait here, everyone!” She announced, running up the stairs to her bed chambers. Grabbing everything in a haste, she returned to the group of friends by the same fireplace as the night before. 

“For you, Mrs. Potts,” Belle said, passing her a hand-stitched teapot cozy wrapped in ribbon. “I made it from my scarf, as I know you’ve admired it for quite some time, and look! You can see through the space here, so it will be worn similar to a sweater.” Mrs. Potts welled up with tears, and nuzzled up to the girl in gratitude. Belle gave out gifts to Lumiere, Cogsworth, Plumette, Maestro, and Madame Garderobe before finally turning to Chip. At one point, Beast had excused himself during all the exchanges being made, but now he had returned with something hidden under a blanket. 

“Now, Chip,” Belle said, grinning, “What was it you asked for?” Chip’s eyes widened, “I asked for a pirate ship!” Beast knelt down before the teacup, and lifted the blanket to reveal a carved boat, with a couple of old napkins as sails. “It’s carved from a fallen tree limb, and look, there’s a steering wheel,” he told Chip. The teacup beamed, jumped onto the ship. “It’s called the helm,” Belle corrected, after a moment. Beast shrugged, “Ah, well, you did do all the research after all.” 

“Does it float?” Chip asked. “What good would a boat be if it didn’t float?” Beast asked, rhetorically. “Oh, no way!” He exclaimed. “Now, Chip, what do you say?” Mrs. Potts chastised the boy gently. “Sorry, Mama.” Chip replied. “Thank you, Master and Belle!” Belle giggled, “You’re quite welcome.” Beast picked up the teacup and his new pirate ship, “Let’s go try it out in the sink!” Mrs. Potts followed, shaking her head, “Careful, now!” Belle took in the setting; surrounded by laughing friends, and capturing a mental photograph of this seemingly perfect day.


End file.
